The Distance Between Two Points
by PreciseUncertainty
Summary: Although it's summer break at Kitauji High School, the All-Kyoto Concert Band Competition is fast approaching, so Shuuichi can't afford any distractions from practice and rehearsals in the upcoming weeks. However, he's also been avoiding a certain euphonium-playing childhood friend for far too long and must bring himself to face her again. Based on the 1st novel. [Shuuichi/Kumiko]


_Author's notes:_

Initially, I became interested in this series because I played the baritone sax back in middle school and high school. I found that the first novel in the series (the basis for season 1 of the anime) has an official English translation, so I figured that I could finish reading it in a quarter of the time that it would take to watch an entire season of the anime. Consequently, I haven't watched the anime fully, but as far as I understand, the novel differs from the anime principally in the following aspects:

1\. Shuuichi is a properly developed love interest for Kumiko with greater significance. For example, the scene where they reconcile before the first competition is quite intimate in the novel, and they even hold hands. In the anime, this gets downgraded to a fist bump.

2\. Reina is a more minor character. For example, the scene where she climbs the mountain with Kumiko is very elaborate in the anime, which has them play a duet there. In the novel, they don't even bring their instruments.

3\. The novel has a more serious feel overall, lacking most of the comic relief found in the anime.

To reiterate, this story is based on the novel, not the anime. Dialogue which was taken verbatim from the text is indicated by an asterisk (*).

* * *

**The Distance Between Two Points**

* * *

It wasn't until the other students had begun dispersing that Shuuichi Tsukamoto cautiously approached the big notice board at the end of the entrance corridor, where the final exam results for the first semester had been posted earlier in the day. The section for the first years was four pages long, a list of every student's name ordered from highest score to lowest, enormously intimidating in its unambiguous simplicity. Somehow, his own name was no more than a quarter of the way down the first page.

_15\. Tsukamoto, Shuuichi – 281 points_

Shuuichi let out a long breath, one which he hadn't been aware that he'd been holding. This was precisely the kind of score that he always hoped for – very good in all respects, while not so exemplary as to put him under the spotlight. However, instead of immediately walking away satisfied, he couldn't help but continue down the list, searching for one specific, all-too-familiar name.

_118\. Oumae, Kumiko – 225 points_

Her entry was near the bottom of the second page, her score just a few points above the average and tied with several others. In other words, completely unremarkable – nothing more, nothing less. Shuuichi stared for a moment, then shook his head as if attempting to dislodge some stubborn thoughts. Why exactly was he interested in how Kumiko had done in the exams? He was still avoiding her, after all. Admittedly, he knew that he had only been continuing to do so largely due to his own obstinacy, but in any case-

"Oi! Tsukamoto! Why the long face? Did you bomb the Japanese literature section or something?"

"Eh?" Shuuichi turned to see two of his classmates from his homeroom, clad in baseball uniforms. "Of course not, Shirakawa. Actually, I did better than I expected."

"Hmm, let's see," declared Shirakawa, moving one finger down the list. "Wow, number 15? Nicely done, Tsukamoto! I'm just happy that I made the top 50! Meanwhile, poor Koizumi here is all the way down at number 201…"

"Oh no," groaned the other boy, Koizumi, as he lowered his head in embarrassment. "I'll never hear the end of this from my parents…"

"Ah, anyway," Shuuichi said awkwardly, taking a step away from the notice board. "I should head to band practice now. See you."

After one last discreet glance at the name of that particular girl, he turned and was quickly on his way.

* * *

The feeling of relief that came with Shuuichi's final exam results all but disappeared when he remembered that today's band practice was no ordinary one. Today, the members of the Class A ensemble for the All-Kyoto Concert Band Competition would be announced. The trombone section had six members; only four would make the cut. Given that there were two third years and one second year, it followed that in the most probable outcome, only one first year would be selected out of the three.

Shuuichi didn't really like those odds, nor the fact that he was stuck in a winner-take-all contest against peers with whom he was on good terms. He took his usual seat in the music classroom silently, refusing to meet anyone's eyes.

"Is everyone here?*" The purposeful voice of Matsumoto-sensei filled the room as she stepped in briskly. Caught by surprise, Shuuichi jerked bolt upright in his chair, coming precariously close to losing his balance.

It was President Ogasawara who responded. "All seventy-one of the students who auditioned are present.*"

Matsumoto-sensei set down the folder which she had been carrying. "I see. Moving right along, I'll be announcing the Class A band members. Anyone whose name isn't called will be participating in Class B ensemble practice, which will meet in AV Room Two.*"

"Yes, ma'am!*" The reply was clear and unanimous.

"There will be fifty-five students in Class A. When your name is called, answer promptly and loudly.*"

"Yes, ma'am!*"

"Furthermore, there will be no objections raised regarding our decisions. The band members were chosen without bias or favour. Bear that in mind. Is this understood?*"

"Yes, ma'am!*"

"Good,*" Matsumoto-sensei concluded in satisfaction, and pulled a single, seemingly handwritten sheet of paper from her folder.

First came the assignments for the front-and-centre instruments: the trumpets, horns, and saxophones. Then came the remaining woodwinds: the flutes, clarinets, oboes, and bassoons. Shuuichi knew that the low brass would be next, but by this point, the atmosphere of the classroom had deteriorated to resemble that of a hospital waiting room. A few girls had already been reduced to tears as a result of being passed over, their sniffles audible enough to permeate the otherwise impenetrable silence of the no man's land between each announced name and the following one.

"Next, the trombone section."

Shuuichi closed his eyes in what he hoped was a peaceful way but which actually turned out to be rather unnatural-looking.

"Third year, Hideri Noguchi."

"Here!"

This was no surprise at all. Rather, it was inconceivable that the trombone section leader wouldn't be selected.

"Third year, Mei Taura."

"Here!"

Another unsurprising pick, of course. There were few substitutes for experience.

"Second year, Keina Iwata."

"Here!"

Again, a predictable choice. Only one opening remained now. Shuuichi gripped the edge of his chair as tightly as if he was at imminent risk of sliding off. Each mistake that he had made during his audition looped through his mind with alarming clarity. Although they were all minor errors when considered individually, there was a possibility that they were representative of a larger overall flaw which he'd failed to notice himself. What if-

"First year, Shuuichi Tsukamoto."

"Here!" Shuuichi shouted entirely by reflex and somewhat more loudly that he should have, though no one dared to laugh or giggle. He blinked once, his eyes somehow immediately meeting Kumiko's. His childhood friend's expression was unreadable, as if she wanted to say something but couldn't or didn't know how. Unwilling to engage in a wordless exchange, Shuuichi turned the other way and noticed Hideri-senpai giving him a thumbs-up under his desk, but he was only able to respond with a weak, uncomfortable smile.

"That concludes the four assignments for the trombone positions." Matsumoto-sensei's voice remained totally impassive. "Next, the bass section. Beginning with the euphoniums.*"

The first pick was Asuka Tanaka, their section leader, and another essentially default choice. However, the bass section was critical despite its small size, so it was likely that all three euphonium players would pass selection.

"First year, Kumiko Oumae.*"

Silence. Shuuichi had no need to actually look – he knew almost instinctively that Kumiko was in a state of panic – but while he could avert his eyes from Kumiko herself, it was impossible not to see the angry glares thrown in her direction by several upperclassmen around the room.

"Oumae! Your answer!*" demanded Matsumoto-sensei sternly.

"H-here…*" The shaking voice was nearly unrecognizable as Kumiko's. Shuuichi was unexpectedly overcome with a powerful desire to go to her side, to do something, _anything_, but he remained frozen in place, unable to translate his thoughts into actions.

The remainder of the meeting passed in a blur, and it was exceptionally wearisome to pay attention while rest of the bass section and the percussion section were named. Finally, Matsumoto-sensei made some concluding remarks regarding soloists and part assignments, although Shuuichi gave those no thought either. There were no trombone soloes in either the compulsory or the free piece. Moreover, since he was the least experienced trombonist of the four, he would surely be assigned the second part rather than the first.

There was no point in wasting any more time. As soon as the band members were dismissed, Shuuichi quickly dashed to the storage room. However, when he returned to the classroom, trombone case in hand, Kumiko was already gone.

Shuuichi cursed at himself mentally. How could he call himself her friend? Sitting there passively, doing nothing at a moment when she had clearly needed support, or even just encouragement? With a bitter sigh, he marched to the shoe lockers to retrieve his running shoes, then slammed the locker door shut with a sharp, reverberating bang, pointedly ignoring the confused looks from a few of the remaining students.

* * *

Hiroshi Koyanagi, homeroom teacher in charge of Year 1, Class 2, was supposedly one of the more interesting faculty members at Kitauji High School. A thin, greying man in his fifties, the former company employee at a big multinational conglomerate in Tokyo had left behind the immense stress of fast-paced corporate life in order to pursue his true passion of teaching physics.

At least that was what Shuuichi had heard. Obviously, asking his teachers about the details of their personal histories was out of the question, so he could never be absolutely certain. Nonetheless, the story seemed to fit with what he'd seen of Koyanagi-sensei.

"You did quite well in the final exams this semester, Tsukamoto," praised his homeroom teacher as Shuuichi took a seat in front of the desk. "I imagine that your parents must be pleased."

"Thank you, sensei," Shuuichi replied politely with a quick bow of his head, inwardly relieved at the auspicious start to his academic counselling session. "They were very happy about my scores."

"If you maintain this level academically throughout high school, making it to university will be relatively straightforward. You do plan to attend university, do you not?" Koyanagi-sensei asked, though the tone of his voice suggested that there was only one allowable answer.

Shuuichi nodded affirmatively.

"Have you thought about what field of study you want to pursue? Potential career paths?"

It was a relatively open-ended question, but Shuuichi didn't really want to get drawn into a long-winded discussion. "I think that civil engineering seems pretty interesting," he offered, looking around the room idly instead of meeting his teacher's eyes.

"Hmm," pondered Koyanagi-sensei, taking a sip of tepid coffee. "Civil engineering, eh? Well, you know that in general, attending a top-ranked university opens up the best job opportunities. For engineering fields, this is especially true. If you choose this path, then the journey will be long and arduous regardless of how strong of a student you are."

"I understand," Shuuichi acknowledged, suddenly feeling an uncharacteristic burst of confidence. "But I'm not going to back down just because it's hard."

"Good," declared Koyanagi-sensei approvingly. "One can never go wrong with a positive attitude. Now, there was one other topic that I wanted to bring up," he continued, changing the subject. "Tsukamoto, you're a member of the concert band, correct?"

"Yes, sensei." Shuuichi nodded again. "I play the trombone."

Koyanagi-sensei sighed, an action that somehow didn't quite seem to suit him. "The year that I started teaching at this school, Kitauji's concert band made it all the way to the national competition. However, the old director retired at the end of that year, and it seems that the band has been unsuccessful ever since."

Shuuichi nearly shot out of his chair. "That may have been true, but we'll definitely reach the national competition this year!" he proclaimed ardently, but instantly realized what he'd done and clamped both hands over his mouth.

From the look on his face, his teacher appeared torn between laughing and astonishment.

"I'm sorry," stated Shuuichi, standing up properly to make a deep bow, his face bright red. "Please excuse my behaviour."

"You may sit down, Tsukamoto. You wouldn't have said something like that unless you had a strong belief in it," said Koyanagi-sensei perceptively. There was a pause as Shuuichi returned to his seat and tried to take a few deep breaths unnoticed.

"That's right," Shuuichi confirmed in an attempt at a calm voice. "Our new director knows what he's doing and we've all be working really hard. Qualifying for the national competition isn't an unrealistic goal this year."

"So the band will be rehearsing frequently during the summer break, correct?"

"Yes." Shuuichi wasn't exactly sure what his teacher intended to get at with this question. "Sectional practices on weekdays and full ensemble rehearsals on weekends from 09:00 to 17:00, but that'll be extended to 20:00 starting next week up until the competition," he recited as if reading from a textbook, hoping that a direct answer was the best one.

"As I thought," stated Koyanagi-sensei. His expression had faded back into a diplomatic, neutral one. "You've already shown yourself to be a good student, and you're also a valuable member of the concert band. Well, I haven't actually seen the latter for myself, but I'll presume that you are. Anyway, you're only a first year now, but as you get closer to university, your academic commitments will increase, _and_ you'll be expected to show greater leadership in the band as well. To balance those responsibilities – that'll be your true challenge."

Shuuichi slumped back in his chair as he tried to process the physics teacher's words. There was no doubt that most upperclassmen in the band were indeed only around average in terms of academics. He could only think of two exceptions offhand. The first was his old neighbour, Aoi Saitou, who had chosen to resign from the band rather than risk compromising her studies. Then there was the bass section leader, Asuka Tanaka, who apparently cared about nothing in which she was not involved herself.

A long silence followed, punctuated only by the low-pitched, oscillating hum of the ceiling fans.

"If you don't have any further questions, then I think that we can wrap up this discussion here," Koyanagi-sensei concluded. "Good luck with the competition."

Standing up and bowing deeply once more, Shuuichi hastily made his way out of the classroom. Sectionals for the Class A ensemble were starting today, and he really didn't want to be late.

* * *

Fortunately, as it turned out, all of Shuuichi's doubts about the sectional practices were completely unfounded. While he had inevitably started as the weakest link in the chain given his relative inexperience as the only first year trombonist, the three upperclassmen were always happy to help, and he felt significant improvement in his playing after a few weeks, enough to be consistently self-assured in his role. Most importantly, Shuuichi was grateful to be in one of the low brass sections, where there was hardly ever any drama or conflict between the members, unlike in the saxophone, flute, or – by far the worst of all – trumpet sections.

Usually, the weekday sectionals lasted nearly all day for the four members of the trombone section. However, on Mondays and Thursdays, the pair of third years, Hideri-senpai and Mei-senpai, had cram school in the afternoon, so the sectional usually ended around lunchtime. Occasionally, Keina-senpai, the second year, would also stick around, but most of the time, Shuuichi would be left to practice alone until the evening. He didn't mind this in itself – it was perfectly logical that he had to practice more than the upperclassmen when they were all expected to perform at an equal level. Still, he had to admit that it could be very difficult to remain motivated, repeating the same passages over and over again by himself, for hours on end, in summer heat so stifling that it seemed to solidify the air itself into an obstruction somewhere inside his trombone.

It was during one such Thursday afternoon in July when Shuuichi found that he had run out of water, having managed to consume four bottles in just over two and a half hours. The closest vending machine was in the entrance corridor, three flights of stairs down. Reluctantly setting his trombone down on the nearest chair, Shuuichi rose, wiped his forehead with a handkerchief, and stretched out his tired arms, groaning.

In the first classroom to the left of the main staircase on the first floor, a group of about a dozen second year students appeared to be studying together. Two of them were scribbling lengthy equations on the whiteboard. Were they going over maths or physics? Shuuichi was too far away to tell, but he felt a rush of something suspiciously like guilt as he passed by the partly-open door through which their indistinct voices drifted out. The next semester would start less than two weeks after the competition, and he undoubtedly needed to review his English and biology materials if nothing else.

He briefly reflected again on Koyanagi-sensei's advice from the academic counselling session. This balance would only become more and more difficult to maintain later on. What if he followed Saitou's example and quit the concert band himself? He wouldn't continue to play the trombone after graduating from high school anyway, considering that he wanted to study civil engineering in university. If he redirected all the time that he spent at band practice into studying, then next semester he could surely rank in the top ten, or perhaps even the top five, in his year? It wasn't like he didn't have the potential, right?

No, absolutely not – never. Shuuichi _wanted_ to remain a member of the band. He was content with his academic performance as it was currently. Also, Kumiko would probably refuse to talk to him ever again if he left.

At this thought, he froze mid-step. Kumiko couldn't be the only reason that he wanted to stay. That didn't even make any sense, since he had already made the decision to join prior to bringing up the subject with her. Additionally, he had still been avoiding her, although now it was because he was too ashamed to face her after that day when they'd both been assigned to the Class A ensemble.

Her presence, therefore, was not his reason for wanting to stay. So what was? Music had never been something that he could simply pick up innately or instinctively in the manner that Tanaka or Kousaka, or even Kumiko herself to an extent, seemed to be capable of. He'd had to work hard every step of the way. Was it the challenge itself that he relished? In a way, yes, but it seemed to be more complex than that.

Shuuichi had played the French horn, not the trombone, until just a few months ago, but all of the time invested since then – mornings, evenings, weekends, odd hours – had begun to pay dividends now. The handling of the instrument, cumbersome at first, had become second nature. The intricate slide movements, awkward and incomprehensible at first, could now be accomplished precisely even with eyes closed. Even his fellow trombonists, seemingly unapproachable at first, now treated him as a friend and equal.

Everyone else could now trust him to play his part, just as he could trust them to play theirs.

Finally satisfied with this explanation, Shuuichi completed the last few steps to the vending machine. The numerous bubbly soft drinks in their vivid packaging tempted him treacherously, but he held back with some reluctance. Sugary beverages and wind instruments did not go well together under any circumstances. Sighing, he grabbed one bottle of mineral water in each hand and headed back upstairs.

* * *

Rather atypically, Shuuichi decided to conclude his one-man sectional an hour or so earlier than scheduled. He could reliably play through even the most difficult passages without mistakes now, and there was no harm in taking it easy once in a while. Sauntering lazily to the storage room, he gently slid his trombone case into one of the lower shelves, taking special care to ensure that the long instrument didn't protrude out in a way that could cause someone to trip over it.

On his way out through the corridor, he passed by the big lecture hall a few doors down from the music classroom. Ordinarily, the clarinet section or one of the other woodwind sections reserved it for their practice, but today it appeared to be occupied by the bass section.

Shuuichi chanced a peek through the window of the door. Kumiko was there, unsurprisingly, but she had her back to the entrance, so there was no way that she would have noticed him walk by. Just as he was about to be on his way again, an idea suddenly occurred to him.

In the compulsory piece, "Crescent Moon Dance", the euphoniums had the principal responsibility for carrying the melody over most of the latter half. Shuuichi had heard the euphonium parts countless times in the ensemble rehearsals, but he'd never heard it played independently. It couldn't hurt to listen in on their practice for a while, right?

It didn't take long for Shuuichi to be able to clearly distinguish between the two euphonium parts, even though the differences were subtle on paper. The one that was clear and bold with flawless transitions throughout – it had to belong to the section leader, Asuka Tanaka. The other one, though a little less perfect from a technical perspective, was mellow and inviting and richly expressive, imparting a pleasant feeling that reminded him of sipping freshly brewed _matcha_ on a chilly morning.

He'd never admitted it to anyone, least of all Kumiko herself, but Shuuichi genuinely admired his childhood friend's musical abilities. His own playing had advanced to be on par with hers in a purely mechanical sense – in other words, he could hit the right notes at the right times just as well as she could – but it didn't even approach the same level in terms of the hard-to-describe organic properties that made music more than the sum of its parts.

Truthfully, listening to Kumiko play just made him miss her even more. She wasn't the primary reason that he wanted to remain in the band, but she was still one of the reasons. He didn't need to remind himself again that it was his own fault that they hadn't been talking, even though he sincerely wanted to say that-

The door opened with a soft creak, but to Shuuichi, it may as well have been a thunderclap. Completely off-guard, he automatically scrambled back, barely managing to stay on his feet in the process. Thankfully, it wasn't Kumiko who stepped out, but Takuya Gotou, the lead tuba player.

"Ah, senpai…" Shuuichi began uneasily, slipping his hands into his pockets. "I was-"

"We're about to finish up soon," said Gotou casually, as if he had found absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. His voice was quiet, almost inaudible over the sounds of the other students still practicing. "Ten more minutes, maybe fifteen." He closed the door behind him and walked off in the direction of the restrooms.

Not exactly sure what to make of this, Shuuichi turned the other way, eager to get home quickly to have some time to think, but he was so preoccupied with trying to piece his thoughts back together after the unexpected interruption that he hardly registered where he was going during the short walk from school to the train station.

_~The local train bound_ _for Uji is now arriving at track two. Please wait behind the yellow line._

The train was finally here. However, Shuuichi's sense of relief promptly evaporated when he saw it stop on the opposite side and realized that he'd somehow been waiting at the wrong platform. Even if he sprinted, it wouldn't be enough to get all the way across in time. He had no choice now but to wait ten more minutes for the next train, so he decided to drop by the convenience store next to the station for a snack.

"Heey!*"

Shuuichi caught the vaguely familiar voice as he was leaving the convenience store, looked up abruptly, and almost dropped the fried croquette that he'd just bought. It was then that he finally understood, far too late, why Gotou had specifically informed him how much longer their practice would run for.

The three first years from the bass section stood at the corner of the intersection, evidently having just crossed the avenue. In the middle was Hazuki Katou waving at him, and next to her was Kumiko, looking particularly tired. In an almost comically irrational move, Shuuichi took a step straight back inside the store, breathing heavily. The glass doors slid shut in front of him with a sort of finality.

He could have managed to face her then if she'd been alone, as he had some idea of what to say now, but it was impossible with Katou also there – after all, the novice tuba player was the one who had inadvertently created the rift between Kumiko and himself. Yet by backing away, Shuuichi had also dug his own grave; peering out the window of the convenience store from in between two racks of cosmetics, he could see that Kumiko's guarded expression had changed to an uncharacteristically dangerous one.

With that in mind, he dared not take the same train as Kumiko and was forced to wait another ten minutes for the one after that. Avoiding someone who lived in the same apartment building, attended the same school, and participated in the same extracurricular activity was a nontrivial matter. He could have sat in a different car at the other end of the train, but they would still have risked crossing paths when exiting the ticket gates, walking home from the station, going up the elevator…

It couldn't be helped. Alone at the far end of the platform, Shuuichi kicked a nearby pillar in frustration.

* * *

The last days before the All-Kyoto Concert Band Competition seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. Before he knew it, Shuuichi was standing backstage at the prefectural concert hall, a spacious, glass-fronted modern structure far larger than any other venue in which he'd ever performed, waiting for the band preceding Kitauji's to finish their piece. Less than three minutes remained. Where had all the time gone?

It was a now or never situation. The numbers ran through his mind again and again: thirty-six high schools had entered the prefecture-level competition; a mere three would advance to the regional one. Still, it was pointless to consider the odds now. It had always been pointless, really. He just hadn't been able to stop thinking about it.

Shuuichi turned slightly to look over at the bass section not far away, his grip on his trombone tightening involuntarily. Kumiko was standing farther back than the others and looked utterly terrified with her face buried in her hands. What was she doing? Why didn't her other friends notice?

He glanced around the darkened space, a trace of panic beginning to rise inside himself. Katou and Kawashima were whispering between themselves obliviously, and Reina Kousaka was staring straight ahead at nothing in particular, lost in her own world.

Nervously, Shuuichi released his right hand from his trombone slide. He needed to be at Kumiko's side _right now,_ regardless of the fact that he'd failed in multiple attempts to reconcile with her so far. Furthermore, he knew in his heart somehow that this would also be now or never. Careful to make no noise, he stepped away from his spot in the trombone section. Hideri-senpai, ever observant, gave a brief nod of assent.

Kumiko didn't notice him approach, so he pulled on her shirt gently with his free hand, drawing her attention.

"Hey,*" he said monosyllabically, suddenly very conscious of the uncomfortable atmosphere, and leaned a bit closer. "You okay?*"

"I'm fine. No problem,*" she lied weakly.

Shuuichi wasn't convinced at all. "That's not a 'no problem' face.*"

"I'm just a little nervous.*"

"Just a little, huh?*" The question came out in a slightly harsher way than he'd intended it to. She stepped on his foot in response. "What was that for?*" he demanded, fortunately remembering to keep his voice down.

"Nothing,*" replied Kumiko innocently.

"Jerk.*" Shuuichi moved his hand up to lightly pat Kumiko's back. "It'll be fine. Think of all the practice we did.*" Despite speaking with an unwavering voice, Shuuichi wasn't even sure whether this last statement was meant to reassure Kumiko or himself.

A few seconds passed in silence. Preparing to return to his position, Shuuichi shouldered his trombone on his left side. The polished metal felt weightless where it rested against his collar, as if it had belonged there all along. Right before he was about to reach for the slide handle, he felt Kumiko's smaller hand brush softly against his own.

He turned, surprised by the contact and initially unsure of what he should say, but words became unnecessary as soon as he met her eyes and found no more unease there, only determination. The wondrous warmth spreading from where their fingers intertwined dispelled all negative thoughts from his own mind.

_-The next performance will be program number thirty-three: Kitauji Prefectural High School.*_

Upon hearing the announcer's voice, Shuuichi reluctantly let go and moved back to sit with his own section. As the curtains swept open, he slowly drew a deep breath, the position of his trombone's slide already set in anticipation of the first note. The four trombonists raised their instruments in perfect unison.

For one infinitesimal moment, everything was quiet and unmoving.

The music began.


End file.
